


There Is Thunder In Our Hearts

by MyFirstAndLastVow09



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Medium!Oswald, Plot Based, Psychic!Oswald, Supernatural Elements, Tags to be added, references to violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFirstAndLastVow09/pseuds/MyFirstAndLastVow09
Summary: Based on prompt idea from butterfliesandresistance on Tumblr:Oswald Cobblepot was born with a gift. He can communicate with spirits of the dead, much like a medium or a psychic. Harvey and Jim are dealing with a case they cannot solve, and are out of options to close the case and fast. Their Captain tells them to CLOSE. THIS. CASE. No matter what.Title is from Placebo's 'Running Up That Hill'.





	1. Help

**Author's Note:**

> Not canon compliant, since Oswald is an everyday citizen. 
> 
> No money being made. Just for fun. I do not own Gotham, or any characters or settings therein.

“Jim, we got another one. Get down here to the docks, ASAP,” Harvey muttered gruffly into Jim’s voicemail. Harvey took another sip of his coffee to try and settle his nerves a little. This case he and Jim had been working on for a week now looked like a serial killer. The papers had named them the ‘Somerset Slayer’, after the street the first victim was found on. _As if the perp needed any other excuse for publicity_ , Harvey thought bitterly.

“Nygma. Anything yet?” Harvey asked.

“Somewhat, Detective. Only that the victim seems to have been moved here post mortem, time of death seems to be between the hours of 1 and 4 am.” Edward Nygma from forensics answered, reading from the little notebook he carried with him.

“Let me guess…little trinkets left in a curved archway above the body?”

“Just like our previous victim,” Ed confirmed. Harvey gritted his teeth in frustration. Henry Duncan was the previous victim; no one of any consequence, but he was married with kids. He had pictures of his wife, along with…other less savory ones of his mistresses. “Mary Pulman was 32 years old, Caucasian, single and lived alone in Gotham. Just a preliminary judgement here, but it looks as though she has track marks on her arm.”

“She was a druggie?” Harvey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like I said, it’s a preliminary judgement.” Ed repeated, still checking up and down the victim’s arms.

“She could have been going through chemo or something, right?”

“Maybe,” Ed replied, but Harvey knew the younger man was amusing him by this point. He decided to try to dial Jim again, when he saw his partner walking up to the crime scene.

“Bout time, Jimbo. Get your beauty sleep?”

“Shut up,” Jim replied, in a gruff tone. This case had gotten out of hand now, with their second victim in one week. Their captain had told them to get this done, and here they were running in circles. Jim went over and over forensics reports, crime scene photos and possible suspect statements for hours the previous night. As Jim had feared, the case haunted his dreams; causing him to not get more than 3 or 4 hours of broken sleep at best. “Ed,” Jim greeted.

“Good morning, Detective Gordon,” Ed said, with a cheery smile. Jim couldn’t help but return it. Ed was a little strange, but he was rarely wrong in his findings, if ever. He seemed one of the most sincere in the GCPD anyway.

“It’s a morning, I’ll give you that. Harv, let’s scope out the scene. I’d rather not leave this to the uniforms,” Jim said.

“That’s their job. But, whatever you say Boy Scout,” Harvey began to follow Jim to the other side of where the victim was laying. “Ed was saying time of death between 1 and 4 in the morning. I know that sounds like a big time jump, but they’ll know more once the autopsy is completed. There’s just no reason to this, though. There’s no pattern, except for both vics weren’t that clean, apparently. They weren’t connected to the mob or anything. But, the first vic was a serial cheater,”

“What was wrong with the second?” Jim asked.

“Ed saw track marks on her arm, so she may be a druggie. Not final, but he’s going to run some tests to be positive,” Harvey explained.

“Jesus. This is ridiculous. So…what do you think? Our guy thinks he’s some kind of saint?” Jim asked, with a disgusted look on his face.

“Carrying out some weird cleansing act of Gotham? Hate to say it, but if that’s the case, he’s got his work cut out for him,” Harvey remarked.

Jim rolled his eyes. “They are still human beings, no matter who they were or what they did in their private time. They didn’t deserve this,”

“Oh, I know that, I was just saying,” Harvey said, trying to scan around to see if there was anything that could have fallen off the perp; a cigarette butt, a bottle…He knew they weren’t lucky enough to find an ID, but if they could just find something…anything, but no dice. Both he and Jim decided to let the uniforms finish up. “Ed, call us to let us know the autopsy results,”

“Roger dodger,” Ed replied, making notes in his book.

Jim and Harvey walked back to their car to ride back to the precinct. The captain had already called three times, and left a message to come to her office as soon as they were back. “She has to know we can’t solve this overnight. We have nothing to go on, except for this guy maybe is some kind of makeshift saint. Well, he thinks he is,” Jim said, buckling his seatbelt.

“This is Gotham. Ain’t no room for saints around here,” Harvey put the car in gear, and drove away with Jim looking out of his passenger window. Jim had hope to do some good for the city when he first became a detective. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He noticed how darkness crept into the city; lacing its grimy tendrils of despair over the people of Gotham. Jim sometimes felt like the light would never come back the next day, forever to be encased in eternal night. Jim shuddered in his seat, and crossed his arms over himself as he sat listening to Harvey as he droned on about possible ideas for the case, each one a little more out there than the other. Jim would just wait to add his input until they got back to talk to the Captain.

 

-0-

 

“Is there anything new we have?” Captain Essen was fiddling with the pen in her hand, looking half anxious and half angry, which Jim and Harvey knew wasn’t a good combination.

“Just the same as the last poor sap, only this one is a woman. Same age, same race, same class; not poor but not in the top tier of Gotham’s wealthiest for sure. Seems to be their sins were laid out before them as leftovers from the murder,” Harvey explained, sitting down in a chair in front of Essen’s desk.

“Sins?” Essen asked.

“Yes. It seems that the first vic was a cheater, and the second was a drug addict, we think. Ed is working with the head of forensics on the autopsy now,” Jim said.

“We need to close this case. The public is in panic; the mayor is breathing down the Commissioner’s neck, and he takes it out on me. I don’t care what resources you have to pull. Close. This. Case.” Essen looked directly at Harvey when she said this, and Harvey widened his eyes for a moment.

“But…Cap, You said we—“

“I said close this case, Bullock. By whatever means necessary,” Essen made it clear she would not be discussing this any further. Harvey sighed, and scratched his head which made Jim look at him in confusion.

“Cap,” Harvey nodded to her, and Jim did the same, following Harvey out of Essen’s office. He continued to go back to their desks, but Harvey motioned for him to follow outside.

“What the hell, Harvey?” Jim asked.

“No questions. Just—come out here,” Harvey gruffly responded, and Jim was getting annoyed. Finally, they reached outside on the street, and Jim looked at him with expectation. “The walls have big ears and mouths. Plus, when I do tell you, I don’t need you going postal on me in front of the entire force,”

“You aren’t going to ask me to wear a dress, are you?” Jim joked…he hoped. “Cause I don’t know how that would help—“

“For God’s sake, _no.”_ Harvey sighed, and looked more than a little stressed. “You know how Essen just said close this case?”

“She always says that.”

“No, I mean the _way_ she said it,” Harvey emphasized.

“Well, I guess that was a bit off. What’s your point?” Jim asked, skeptical.

Harvey ran a hand through his hair in obvious nervousness. Jim was even more skeptical now, and just a tad worried about his friend. “A few years back, we had a case. Anna Duncan. Not like this one, but much of the same kind of run around we are getting now. No evidence, murdered right in her own home. There were no prints, no DNA, nada. This was before Essen became Captain, mind you.”

“Alright…”

“We had absolutely nowhere else to turn to. We all were at the end of our ropes; working double shifts every freaking day just to catch this son of a bitch,” Harvey continued. “I made a decision, and was reprimanded for it at the time, but it came down to this: How badly do we want to give the family of the victim peace at last? To bring their killer down?”

“What did you do?” Jim asked.

“I--I met this kid. Young kid, you know. Short, emo-looking; nice kid, but weirded me out just a bit. He worked over at a restaurant on 5th. I went in for a drink—don’t give me that look, you putz. I’m not a damn saint, I don’t hide it. Anyway, this kid walked by me and just muttered all creepy-like, laying his hand on my shoulder, ‘Your father is not very pleased’. Now, of course, I wanted to smack the kid seven ways to Sunday, but it was the _way_ he said it. When I looked at him, I swear to God, Jim, it was like he saw into my soul,” Jim listened to the story, all the while his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. _Was Harvey serious about this?_ “Long story short, I talked to the kid that day. No, I wasn’t drinking anymore. He wouldn’t serve me any more after that comment. But…he heard my Pop, Jim. He spoke to him.”

“Okay, I think you need to get some rest; we’ve all been working a lot and—“ Jim began, but Harvey shook his head.

“No, NO! Jim, I’m serious! Why would I make this up?” Harvey asked, tone accusatory.

“To get out of paperwork?”

“Jim. He helped us solve that case. He found the killer.” Harvey said, in an awed voice.

“How in the hell did he do that? What are you saying? That he can talk to the other side? That he’s some kind of psychic?” Jim waggled his fingers, with a light-hearted chuckle. At Harvey’s serious face, however, he dropped his smile. “Harvey, come off it! No way is that even possible! There are those idiotic frauds all over town.”

“Yeah? Look at the case file. Kid’s name is Oswald,” Harvey told him, and went back inside without him. He was obviously angry that Jim didn’t believe him, but how was he supposed to when it was all complete and utter nonsense? Jim hoped Harvey wasn’t sick or anything, because they had a lot of work to do. He sighed, and made a decision going back inside. He knew he was going to regret this…

 

 

“Kristen? You back here?” Jim called, not seeing the lady who worked in the Records Annex. She popped up from behind a filing cabinet, and Jim jumped a bit.

“Sorry. I tend to do that.” She said, sheepishly. “Did you need help with something, Detective?”

“No problem. I was wondering if I could have a look at the case notes from the Duncan file. Probably about four, five years ago, maybe?” Jim asked, and Kristen began to search for it.

“Just remember to sign those out and back in,” Kristen told him as she handed him the case files.

“Will do,” Jim walked out, waving to her. He brought back the files at his own desk and was flipping through it when Harvey returned.

“Whatcha doin’? Harvey asked, peering over his shoulder. As he saw what Jim was so engrossed in, he smirked. “Caught your attention, huh?”

“No, I just needed to see if there is any connection,” Jim defended, not wanting Harvey to be right.

“Yeah…sure partner,” Harvey clapped him on the back, and went to his own seat with a smug expression on his face that Jim hated. As he looked through photos and witness statements, one tidy scrawl caught his attention. It was a signed statement of the ‘contact’. Jim kept his skeptical attitude the whole time reading it, and shook his head. _There was just no way this was possible…or was it?_ In his time in the city, Jim had started to believe that anything was possible. He sighed in defeat.

“Fine. Take me to him. I want to see for myself,” Jim decided, getting up and putting on his jacket.

“I’m not a valet, but sure. If he still works there, who knows?” Harvey said, putting his hat back on to leave.

“Didn’t you get any contact info for him? I didn’t see any in the file, except for his name,”

“Yes, but he made me promise not to leak his name. That statement is the only thing that connects him to that case, nothing else. He didn’t want his name in the papers or anything. He just wanted to help, and give the woman’s family the peace they deserved. He didn’t want money or power or publicity. It was really weird, considering this is Gotham. Everyone wants something,” Harvey explained, as they got into the car.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s just not what you think,” Jim argued.

“Maybe it’s exactly what I think,” Harvey countered.

“Ok, Mr. Cryptic. Just drive, and we will see if you are right about this kid or not,” Jim muttered, and kept to himself the rest of the drive. Oh, Jim couldn’t wait to prove Harvey wrong.


	2. A Gift

“Mom? Where is my white shirt?” Oswald called from his bedroom. “It was here last night,”

“I am ironing it,” Gertrude called back, as she continued smoothing out the wrinkles in the shirt.

Oswald huffed in frustration. “I did that last night so I could have it for work this morning,” He told her, as he made his way out into the living room. “I have this interview, I cannot be late,”

“I thought I had taught you better than that! It was all wrinkled from not having it on the hanger,” Gertrude countered, as she put the finishing touches on it. She picked it up with a smile, and Oswald couldn’t be angry with her. She was just trying to help…and she was his mother, of course.

“Thank you. I apologize; I’m rather nervous,” Oswald admitted, slipping the now perfectly ironed dress shirt over his white undershirt.

“My boy, you will get this promotion, today. I am sure of it. You work so hard to support us…you have earned it,” Gertrude smiled and patted his cheek. Oswald knew she was overly optimistic, but he appreciated the sentiment.

“I hope so. This will mean no more having to cover the line in the kitchen when someone calls out, at least,” Oswald tried to make light of the whole situation, but in reality he was afraid his _dickhead_ of a manager was going to overlook him _yet again._ He knew in his gut that his soulless piece of rotten garbage that deigned to call himself a manager hated him since day one. Oswald slipped on his shoes and righted himself one more time in the mirror before heading out the door.

“Good luck, my liebchen. I’ll see you tonight,” Gertrude pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you again. Bye, Mom,” Oswald tried to shake his nerves off as he made his way to the restaurant. For once, he decided to catch a taxi, instead of riding the bus there; this was to ensure his outfit remained the way it was meant to be, instead of getting some kind of foreign substance on it.

Oswald stood outside the door to the restaurant, and stared at the sign that read _Luciano’s._ He took a few deep, calming breaths and headed inside. One or two of the older waitresses there greeted him with a warm smile, and one of the bus boys even gave him a kiss on the cheek for luck. He headed back to the manager’s office, and knocked twice.

“Come in,” A voice responded lazily. _Lazy, incompetent bastard,_ Oswald thought bitterly. He went through with all the grace and poise taught to him by his mother and tried to give the man his best smile.

It didn’t help matters. “Cobblepot,” Ralph greeted, with a sneer. “I’m assuming you didn’t dress up on my account? You shouldn’t clean the fryers in such nice clothes,” Oswald pointedly ignored the comment.

“I’m here for the interview. The supervisor interview, sir.” Oswald reminded him, knowing that Ralph knew exactly why he was here. “I scheduled it the other day, and you said be here by noon, sir,”

“Always punctual; at least you have that goin’ for ya,” Ralph commented. He looked over some papers on his desk before asking Oswald a slew of questions. Some, admittedly, were relevant to the job but others were just downright insulting. However, Oswald decided it was in his best interest to take it all in stride and answer as honestly and best he could. At least 30 minutes had gone by since Oswald arrived, and he was beginning to feel the nervous feeling back in the pit of his stomach. “Well, kid. I can say this with absolute certainty now…”

Oswald waited with bated breath, twisting his fingers in his lap.

“…that you are just not qualified for the position. Try again next time, kid.” Ralph finished, and Oswald felt his heart drop. He felt like his mind was going blank and fuzzy.

“W-what? What do you mean, I’m not qualified? I’ve been here five years! That’s more than most anybody here!” Oswald exclaimed.

“Look, you know your stuff. I never said you didn’t. You just don’t got what it takes to hold a position like that,”

“A position like what? I run the back of the house, front of the house sometimes when a hostess or two calls out sick, or when the front of the house manager decides to go to the back to get high on company time.” Oswald listed by ticking them each off his fingers. “I’ve done the scheduling, I’ve made sure people know their tasks for prep, and I _help_ with the prep each day. I have lost count of how many 14 hour long shifts I have worked without more than a ten minute break a day! Do you wish to tell me, oh wise manager, who in the hell would be more qualified than myself?”

“Don’t you raise your voice to me!” Ralph shouted, a vein popping in his forehead. “Do you want to be fired? I can make that happen, if that’s the case!”

“No. No, I don’t. You won’t have to worry about that because I QUIT!” Oswald screamed back at him. He headed for the office door, and just as he went to leave he stopped and smirked. “Oh, by the way…your late wife knew you had a mistress. Try to sleep with that on your conscience from now on. Good day,” Ralph spluttered incoherently, screaming Oswald’s name as he walked quickly out of the restaurant. He would tell all of his friends what happened another day, when Oswald wasn’t about to punch a wall in rage.

When he opened the door to the restaurant in a huff, he knew he wasn’t paying attention because he collided with something hard. “Oh, excuse me,” Oswald muttered, keeping his eyes on the floor as he pushed passed the person. He didn’t want anyone to see the angry tears in his eyes at the moment.

It was Jim who Oswald ran into, but Jim wasn’t aware of who it was until Harvey was shouting at him. “Jim! That’s him!”

“Oh…HEY!” Jim called, startling Oswald as he walked down the street. He turned out of curiosity at two men running up the sidewalk. One, whom he recognized, but wasn’t at all pleased to see again. The other…well, the other about took Oswald’s very breath away upon first glance.  

“Um, excuse me, gentleman but it’s not very polite to shout at someone,” Oswald raised an eyebrow at Jim, who looked a bit sheepish. Oswald turned his attention on Harvey. “Detective. What do you want?”

“Cut right to the point, eh kid?” Harvey asked.

“I do not want to experience idle chit chat that the GCPD is so delightfully fond of. So, either tell me what you both want, or go away,” Oswald didn’t have the patience for anything else today. Besides, he had to go look for another job in the city before going home.

Jim decided to stay quiet for the moment, considering they were going to be asking about the kid’s…help. He let Harvey take the lead. “This is my partner, Jim Gordon.”

Oswald looked at Jim, and tried to smile a little. “Nice to meet you, Jim.” He greeted, not wanting to appear rude to this rather dashing detective.

“So, I uh—I assume you have heard about what’s been going on from the papers.” Harvey began, holding his breath that Oswald wouldn’t run off.

“Tragic, I know. Listen, I really need to go, so if you don’t mind—“

“We need your help,” Harvey blurted out. Jim rolled his eyes and nudged him with his elbow. _Way to jump the gun,_ Jim thought.

Oswald narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“I told Jim about you. About how you helped us before,” Harvey explained.

“Detective Bullock…I wasn’t aware you were a gossip. Besides, that was a long time ago. If you will excuse me,” Oswald brushed past them, and began heading down the street. He heard Harvey sigh, but it was what this other Detective had to say that made him turn back.

“We’re wasting our time, Harv.” Jim said, hanging his head. Why he had thought to believe any of that nonsense in the first place was beyond him. “I told you this wouldn’t work,” _Ah, a skeptic,_ Oswald thought. _Guess I need to set him right._

“Excuse me? Detective Gordon, was it?” Oswald asked, walking up to him.

“Yes?” Jim replied, raising an eyebrow.

Oswald stood directly in front of him, and looked him once over. He eyed the watch on his right wrist, and gently touched it, startling Jim a bit. He felt an immense sadness wash over him, and saw the entire memory flash through his mind. Broken glass, a totaled car, police sirens wailing, a sobbing young boy holding on to the driver of the vehicle, begging for him to wake up. Oswald felt tears sting his own eyes, and he clenched them tight to push them away. He opened his eyes and Jim sucked in a breath in surprise. _Now he knew what Harvey meant about his gaze._ “Your father would be so proud of you.”

Jim widened his eyes in shock. He couldn’t move. “W-what?”

Oswald leaned in closer, so he could whisper in Jim’s ear. He knew Jim wouldn’t want his partner hearing this. “It wasn’t your fault. The accident. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.”

Jim sighed, as he felt tears sting his own eyes. How had Oswald known that? Jim hadn’t even lived in the city when that happened, so it wasn’t like it was in the local newspaper. There wasn’t any possible way he could have known…unless…”It’s real,” Jim whispered, half in awe and half of the raw emotion from what he was feeling. Oswald smiled, feeling his heart clench for Jim’s pain. He knew Jim had carried that with him for a long time.

“Told ya,” Harvey scoffed. Jim fixed him with a glare, and turned his attention back to Oswald.

“We really do need your help,” Jim tried again, a little softer than Harvey’s approach. “Can we talk somewhere?”

Oswald sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he had to do anything else for the rest of the day as it was…he could look for another job tomorrow, Oswald decided. “Let’s go and get some coffee, shall we gentlemen?”

 

-0-

 

As Jim, Harvey and Oswald sat around the table in the café down the street, Oswald was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as Harvey and Jim recounted the situation they were in with the case. _A tight spot, indeed,_ Oswald thought.

“This guy isn’t going to stop,” Jim muttered, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t seem like it, until he’s caught. Before, it was just a one off it seemed.” Oswald replied, taking a sip of his tea.

“He needs to be stopped. The Captain said close this case, no matter what,” Harvey said. “I know you said it was one time, before. I didn’t have a choice but to ask you. Every other one of these people in the city who say they have a ‘gift’ are in it for the money these morons throw at them.”

“I don’t do it for the money. I can’t help what I see and what happens, most of the time.” Oswald shrugged. “My mother always told me never to flaunt my gift, or take advantage of it. To use it for any monetary gain would be unthinkable,”

“That’s the difference between you and them,” Jim said, smiling at him. Oswald couldn’t help but return it.

“How about it? Can you help us?” Harvey asked.

“I—I want to. But, as of today, I am unemployed, so I need to remedy that as well,” Oswald was beginning to feel nervous again, and was fidgeting even more now with the napkin. It was beginning to be torn into small shreds.

“I thought you worked at the restaurant,” Jim wondered aloud.

“I did, but I quit today. My old manager told me I wasn’t qualified for a position I rightfully deserved,” Oswald explained, wondering now why he was spilling his life to a complete stranger. Jim was just so easy to talk to, he supposed.

“That sucks. I can make sure you are paid, though. Essen wouldn’t screw you over,” Harvey assured him.

“Well…I guess we can see if I can. I can’t always control when I’ll have contact. I mean, I guess we can try a séance,” Oswald said, already trying to think of ways to help. He had never performed one himself, but his mother had told him stories about them when he had first discovered he had the gift of Sight.

“A what?” Harvey asked, bewildered.

“It’s where he would try to contact one of the spirits of the victims.” Jim answered, with Oswald raising an eyebrow. “I read,”

Oswald smiled at him. “He’s right, in a way. It can be a long shot, but without anything else to go on, it would be the best bet right now,”

“Not since we can’t let him near the crime scenes,” Harvey put in.

“Do you have pictures I can see?” Oswald asked, not really wanting to see them. If he remembered the last crime scene photos he saw, they were particularly grizzly.

“Sure. I have some of them at home, if you wanted to stop by this evening.” Jim suggested. Harvey raised an eyebrow at that. Jim NEVER invited anyone over right off the bat like that.

“Alright. That sounds agreeable, Detective,”

“Jim. Please,” Jim insisted. He had no idea why he felt so drawn to Oswald already; if Jim was honest with himself, he wanted to get to know Oswald better. Even though they had met under these circumstances and not just around.

“Jim, then. Shall we say, 6 o clock?” Oswald suggested. He was rather nervous about spending time alone with Jim, but he kept it at bay for the time being. Not like it was anything weird. _Yeah, just to look at photos of a crime scene, all the while to see if I can get in contact with one of victims spirits. Not weird at all,_ Oswald thought to himself.

“Sounds good.” Jim took out the pen he had in his pocket and wrote his address down on a napkin from the table. He slid it over to Oswald, who chuckled at it.

“You don’t live too far from where I live. I’m two streets down,” Oswald told him. Jim smiled warmly at him, which made Oswald feel weak kneed, not realizing why.

“Ok, I hate to break this up, but Jim we actually have to get some other work done. Nygma is done with the autopsy, remember?” Harvey interrupted. Jim was getting this goony look on his face whenever he and Oswald locked eyes; he wanted to know what the hell was going on with his partner

“Right. Oswald, thank you and I’ll see you later,” Jim stood up and pushed his chair in. Apparently, that didn’t matter because he just ran into Harvey’s anyway, embarrassing himself. He went beet red in the face when Oswald stood up.

“Jim! Are you alright?” Oswald asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Fine. Fine. See ya,” Jim muttered and booked it out of the café. Harvey rolled his eyes and waved to Oswald before following Jim out the door. Oswald finished his tea and exited the café himself, to head home and try to piece together the last couple of crazy hours that had just passed. As he caught the bus, he prayed that his mother wouldn’t ask too many questions about where he was going tonight.

 

-0-

 

“What the hell, Jim?” Harvey asked, as soon as they reached the car.

“What?” Jim defended.

“You know what. He is an assistant on this case. Do not look at me like that, damn it. I _saw_ how you looked at him. You looked at Lee like that,” Harvey pointed out.

“I just met him, for Christ’s sake! Besides, this is an official investigation that he is a part of. Pure professionalism only,” Jim told him, even though his heart wasn’t in it. He did want to close this case, absolutely. But, Jim had been lonely since Lee had moved to another city and since their break up. Oswald was one of the only people that made him get butterflies in his stomach on first glance like a teenager since Barbara.

“Just wanted to make sure.” Harvey nodded once, and headed back to the precinct.

Jim didn’t reply to that, making certain his partner was letting this go. Not like he needed to know how Jim was thinking about how intense Oswald’s gaze was, or how sincere his offer to help was. How Oswald’s fingers felt around his wrist; cold to the touch, but comforting at the same time. He shivered at the memory, and tried to will it away. Jim needed all of his focus on this case if they had any hope of closing it.


	3. Tell Me We Both Matter (Don't We?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Coming. One sec,” Oswald heard Jim call through the door. Oswald shifted his weight from foot to foot, being wary of his bad knee. He was nervous, but excited at seeing Jim again. He wasn’t blind…Jim was a gorgeous man, and extremely kind. If not a little rough around the edges, much like Oswald himself. 
> 
> Jim sees just how amazing Oswald's gift really is. Shading his lines of black and white thinking even further, Jim starts to believe that truly anything is possible in the city of Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is so much fun to write! I'm not sure exactly how long it will be. I already have a few chapters written. Slow burning-ish between these two, but Jim/OS endgame...obviously. :D

“Mom? I’m home,” Oswald called out. Gertrude looked concerned at Oswald being home so early in the day. He braced himself for impact…

“I’m so sorry, my boy,” Gertrude wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

He expected that she already knew, as he received his Gift from her. “It’s not a big deal,”

“That man was a pig. A sloppy, good for nothing—“Gertrude was gearing up for an angry rant on her son’s behalf, but Oswald stopped her.

“Mom, its fine. I’ll just look for another job tomorrow. With my résumé, I’m not worried, honestly. One can only hope it will be better than what I had to deal with there,”

“I’m sure you will, my darling,” Gertrude said, patting his cheek.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ll be out this evening, after dinner.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m—meeting up with a friend,” Oswald said, quickly.

“Have I met this friend of yours?” Gertrude asked, raising an eyebrow.

 _Have to keep her from any suspicion._ “No, but I saw him at the café today; we used to go to school together. He just thought we could catch up a little,” Oswald lied, feeling guilty about it even as he was saying it.

“You don’t get out enough, my boy. You have fun. If you won’t be back until late, maybe I’ll have Mrs. Letting over for tea,” Gertrude commented.

Oswald let out a breath as she walked back into the kitchen. _Thank you to whoever was listening to my silent plea,_ he thought. He headed back to his room and took off his jacket, before collapsing on his bed. This day was crazy as they come, and he was sure that it was only going to get crazier. He sat up in panic, however that he only had a couple of hours before he was due to head over to Jim’s apartment. _Why am I getting wrapped up in this again?_ He thought to himself.

 _Because the other cop was cute,_ a traitorous voice in his head replied. Oswald sighed; Jim Gordon was the epitome of everything he could ever want in a man, if he was being honest with himself. He looked like he just walked off a magazine cover, for God’s sake…which meant Jim was totally out of Oswald’s league. But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream, right? He pulled the napkin out of his pocket that had Jim’s address on it, and looked at it. He wondered if Jim had a significant other that would be with him tonight; Oswald didn’t notice a ring when they had coffee earlier, but that didn’t mean much. _What am I thinking? He’s too good for me,_ Oswald thought, a pang of sadness slicing through his chest like a knife. He shook off the feeling, and stood up to get dressed for dinner, and to go to Jim’s afterwards. Oswald focused solely on his job that needed to be done. This monster needed to be stopped, and fast.

 

-0-

 

 

“Coming. One sec,” Oswald heard Jim call through the door. Oswald shifted his weight from foot to foot, being wary of his bad knee. He was nervous, but excited at seeing Jim again. He wasn’t blind…Jim was a gorgeous man, and extremely kind. If not a little rough around the edges, much like Oswald himself. He was pulled out of his thoughts as the door opened to reveal Jim, who was smiling. “Come in. Sorry, Harvey wouldn’t stop talking,”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. I wasn’t out there long.” Oswald assured him, as he walked in. He looked around a little at Jim’s place. A few pieces of furniture here and there such as a sofa, a recliner and a TV on a stand. A few pictures hanging along the pale blue walls of sailboats and flowers, and a bookshelf full of books. It had a nice, homey feel to it. “It’s a nice place you have here,”

“Moved in a few months ago. Would you like something to drink? I have water, soda…” Jim offered, flitting back to the kitchen.

“Water, please.” As Jim brought him his bottle, Oswald sat down across from the recliner on the sofa, Jim joining him. He gazed at the open files skittered across the coffee table, and grimaced at the first photo. “Oh, my.”

“First victim. I didn’t mean to just leave them out—“

“No, no. I assure you its fine. I’ve seen this kind of thing before.” Oswald waved him off. “After all, it’s why I’m here,”

“You have a point, there. I know that it’s a lot to ask, but we’re desperate. I think the Captain realized this when we absolutely no leads after the second victim. We’ve never seen anything like this,” Jim explained. He still was wary on asking Oswald for help at all, but he knew this case needed closed.

“Jim, I want to help. Let me look at these and see what happens, okay? I can’t guarantee anything, you see. But, I can try,” Oswald offered. Jim nodded in agreement and pulled out the crime scene photos. As Oswald picked the first one up, he closed his eyes to relax himself more to be more open. His mother taught him that back when he was still a boy. At first, he was distracted by the sound of Jim’s soft breathing and the smell of his cologne, but Oswald forced himself to focus. Suddenly, he saw in his mind’s eye a man, middle aged, playing with a young girl maybe about five years old. They seemed to be at a birthday party. He smiled at the image, a happy man with a happy family. Then, the image shifted. A man with cold eyes yelling at his wife about not nosing into business where it didn’t belong, making Oswald’s heart ache. “Henry,” he whispered, the name being shouted by his wife.

Jim sucked in a breath. “Henry Miller is the name of the first victim,” _Jesus Christ…_ Jim thought with a shiver.

“He was an adulterer,” Oswald pointed out, opening his eyes again. “From what I saw, it was going on for a while. Yet, he was happily married man on the surface, with a beautiful daughter. They were at a birthday party.”

“His daughter’s birthday was a week before he was murdered. What else did you see?” Jim asked, on the edge of his seat.

“It looked very normal, from what I did see. It all shifted back and forth so quickly. Henry seemed to never want to stay in one place. Which might be why I can see this at all. He might not have crossed over yet. Seems to be he’s waiting for something,” Oswald explained his theory, and at Jim’s slack-jawed expression, he sighed. “I mean he might be waiting for his killer to be caught,”

“Don’t tell me there are ghosts too,” Jim shook his head in disbelief.

“Why is that so hard to believe? You said you read, Detective. While some stories are altered for commercial selling value, some are very real. It’s hard to discern between the two,” Oswald told him.

Jim blew out a breath with this information, his head spinning a little. “I need a beer,” He rose to go get his drink, thoughts racing to get to the front of his brain to try and make sense.

Oswald chuckled as Jim went to the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that. However, you did ask, to be fair.”

“I didn’t even know real psychics existed before you,” Jim said, taking a sip of his drink.

“I didn’t know honest cops existed before you,” Oswald blurted out, and regretted it immediately. “Well, I mean—“

Jim hoped Oswald didn’t see the heat in his cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you,”

“My mother has said bluntness isn’t my most _attractive_ quality…” Oswald murmured, and he cleared his throat in nervousness. “How about you take me through these and see what there is to see?” Oswald suggested, trying to ease the tension that was now present in the room.

“Sounds good,” Jim agreed, and began sifting through the case notes and photos.

 

-0-

 

Two hours had flown by, Jim getting a headache and Oswald was beginning to feel really dizzy. He had seen things that made his head spin; from the first victim, Henry’s, cheating ways to the second victim, Amy Debar’s, more extreme heroin addiction. Extreme in the ways of how far she went to get it, and Oswald shuddered at the memory, almost making himself sick at the sight. He had mentally prepared himself for what he would see since he had helped the GCPD before, but nothing could have prepared him for either of the victim’s lives in full color. Jim was resting his head in his hands at the new information. Serial killers didn’t just choose random people. Besides, this was Gotham so there had to be a connection to both of the victims to each other, somehow. Oswald suggested a few things, but they both proved them wrong within an hour. Jim looked over at Oswald then, who was resting back against the couch, now paler than when he came in. Jim felt guilty immediately.

“Jim, I practically feel your guilt rolling off of your shoulders. I told you I would help. I would appreciate some orange juice, if you have it, though,” Oswald told him. Jim gaped at him for a second, before rising to get Oswald his drink.

“I’m going to guess that a séance is the way to go here?” Jim asked, returning to the living room.

“I would think that’s a safe bet. I didn’t see anything that would connect these two to each other at all. They even lived in separate parts of the city,” Oswald said, taking a sip of the juice.

“What can I do to help prepare for it?” Jim asked.

“I have everything I need back at home. Mother is not going to be pleased, but she will understand. She knows I like to help if I can,” Oswald explained, shaking his head a little. He knew he was going to have to tell his mother when he gathered the cloth and candles from his old trunk. Oswald was _not_ looking forward to that conversation. “She worries about me. But, she’s all I have, and I love her dearly,”

“I can understand that. My Father and I were close. More than my mom and I ever were. Losing him—losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through, to this day. It’s nice that you are so close to her.” Jim watched Oswald carefully, seeing some of Oswald’s color return to his cheeks. He was pale to begin with, but before he got paler than usual and it had scared Jim a little.

“I could tell you had been carrying that burden for a long time, Jim.” Oswald was referring to Jim thinking the accident was his fault. “You are a good man, Jim. You and Detective Bullock are probably working this case alone while the rest of them just sit on their asses all day. You are an honest man and a good cop. I don’t know why you think otherwise,”

Jim blinked at him for a moment, then sighed. “Sometimes, I feel like this city gets to me. Threatening to swallow me whole, if I’m not careful.”

Oswald smiled softly at him. “I assure you your light will not be extinguished, Jim Gordon. It’s too bright,”

Jim’s heart lurched at that. “How do you know?”

“I can see how much good you want to do for the city. While, yes, we all have a little darkness in us, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be overshadowed by something even better. The difference between you and this murderer is that he gives into that darkness, expanding it. You embrace the light and cling to it like a child would their mother’s hand.” Oswald explained. He rose up out of his seat and rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Don’t ever lose that feeling, Jim. No matter what,”

“I promise,” Jim meant it, too. He wanted to keep this promise to Oswald, and he wasn’t sure why. There was just something about this man that intrigued him, but made him feel more at peace since the day he moved back to Gotham. Jim looked into Oswald’s eyes and saw nothing but sincerity there.

“Good. Now, I really must be getting back home. We will pick this up tomorrow evening?” Oswald suggested, hopeful.

“Yes, of course. That’s if we don’t get a lucky break tomorrow, that is,”

“You mean, if the killer decides ‘Oh well, I guess I should just go turn myself in’?” Oswald joked, while putting his jacket on.

“Yeah, something like that,” Jim laughed.

“I will bid you goodnight, Detective. I will see you soon,” Oswald went to the door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I know this is going to sound stupid, and I know you can take care of yourself and all—but can I walk you home? It would make me feel better knowing that you got home safely,” Jim tried to disguise his intention of _why_ he wanted to walk Oswald home in lieu of safety. He hoped Oswald didn’t catch on, as he didn’t want to make an ass of himself.

“I—I guess. Jim, that is very nice of you, thank you,” Oswald smiled, and secretly appreciated the fact that he would get to spend more time with Jim. He had wished they had met under different circumstances, but Oswald figured he would take what he could get, how he could get it.

Jim grabbed his coat from the hook beside the door and shrugged it on. _He wears a leather jacket ohmygod…_ Oswald thought his brain was combusting in on itself. He felt himself go red in the face as he imagined running his hand across the supple leather that now was draped over Jim’s biceps. “Ready?” his voice shakier than he had wanted it to be.

“Sure,” Oswald hated how squeaky his voice was, but ignored it. Jim smiled at him and led him outside.

 

While walking, they chatted softly about how long Oswald had lived in Gotham and when he discovered his gift. “I was 13 when it first happened. A boy at my school wasn’t very nice to me, but he had his reasons,”

“What reasons were those?” Jim asked, furrowing his brow. “No one deserves to be bullied,”

“He had lost his parents in a house fire and was a ward of the state. He was mean to everyone,” Oswald began to explain. “I felt his mother. At first, I smelled lilacs. It was like I was standing in a field of them. Then, I _saw_ her. She was so _beautiful._ She smiled at me, Jim. She asked me not to be too harsh on him, and that she loved her son so very much,”

“What did you do?”

“I told him his mother loved him and wanted him to be happy.” Oswald shrugged, and kicked the rocks on the sidewalk that were under his feet. “And that I didn’t blame him for lashing out,”

“That’s it? How did he take it?” Jim asked, now more curious.

“He started crying and begging me to forgive him. He said he missed them so much and he gets so angry they were stolen from him,” Oswald got a misty look in his eyes, so Jim walked closer to him, letting his shoulder brush Oswald’s a little. He didn’t know Oswald that well, much to his displeasure, but he wanted to offer comfort in some way. “These visions I have…sometimes they are so strong. So forceful, I cannot ignore them. When I—when I saw the vision of Henry, I could feel his anger; his feeling of being empty. It was horrible,”

Jim automatically felt the guilt hit him like a freight train. He stepped into Oswald’s path, blocking him. “Oswald...you don’t have to do this. Help us, I mean. Not at that cost,”

“You don’t understand, Jim. These people want closure and if I can help them, why shouldn’t I? Look at you. You want the same thing for them. Why am I so different from you?” Oswald felt tears sting his eyes, but he wasn’t sure why. He felt like he had to _prove_ himself to Jim, no matter what for some reason or another. Maybe it was because Jim was just so good; so _righteous…_ that sometimes Oswald felt blinded if he looked at him too long.

Jim sighed, and reached out to touch Oswald’s shoulder. ”Because you aren’t a cop, Oswald. You don’t understand,”

“What don’t I understand? Enlighten me,” Oswald was getting angry now at Jim for trying to protect him. “This is Gotham! I have seen things that have happened around here. You think I don’t know about the gang wars? Blood running in rivers in the streets? I am not some innocent little doe to be protected!”

“You could get hurt. You’ve seen the things that he’s done. It was a mistake asking you for help and I’m—“

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize for that; you carry the weight of this entire damned city like a stone on your shoulders; threatening to crush you to death, if you’re not careful. I _see_ it in your eyes. You won’t even let your friend Harvey in, will you? You would rather bear the brunt of everything alone. Well, too damn bad. I’m not letting you do this alone,” Oswald shoved his way out from Jim’s body blocking him with his shoulder and walked ahead of him.

Jim stood frozen in his tracks for a few moments before running to catch up to Oswald. “You are determined to see this through until the end, aren’t you?”

“You can be stubborn, my friend. But trust me when I tell you that I am way worse. Now, my apartment is up there and my mother will be waiting for me.” Oswald pointed to the third floor.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise you that,” Jim swore, and Oswald grasped Jim’s hand firmly.

“I believe I can make that same promise. After all, I am the one who has the gift,” Oswald smiled and winked at Jim, disbelieving at his own boldness. Jim sucked in a small breath. “Good night, detective,” he muttered softly.

“Good night, Oswald,” Jim said, not trusting his own voice or own mouth not to betray him and say something completely stupid. Oswald opened the door with his key and let himself inside the front doors, Jim watching the whole time. When he was out of sight, Jim leaned against the telephone pole to get his bearings. Then, he called Harvey.

“Harvey, we need a post outside of Oswald’s. Don’t ask why, you _know_ why. For him and his mother, 24 hours a day until we catch this guy. If they don’t like it, tough. He’s helping us; it’s the least we can do,” Jim said.

“Well said, partner. See you in the morning,” Harvey replied, and hung up.

Jim sighed as he put his phone back in his pocket. He made his promise to Oswald nothing would happen to him, no matter what. Jim was amazed at how he had come to care for Oswald so much, even though they just met. But, there was just something about him, he supposed. This dredge of a city and all of its darkness hadn’t yet snuffed out the light in Oswald’s eyes, and Jim would make damn sure it stayed that way.


	4. Exchange the Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and his mom have a heart to heart about her worries over Oswald's involvement with the GCPD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry for the delay! Being an adult and life gets in the way sometimes...anyways, I am back with another chapter!

Oswald crept as quietly as he could back into the apartment, seeing as it was dark inside. His mother must have gone to bed already, seeing it was well past midnight now. He tiptoed into the kitchen to get a drink of water to settle his nerves, when the kitchen light flicked to life. _Shit,_ he thought.

“When did you think you were going to tell me this, Oswald?” Gertrude asked, accusingly. Her face was a mixture of emotions, ranging from worried, to upset, to a little angry.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Oswald sighed, and he didn’t mean with her eyes.

“Answer me,”

“I am helping like I did before, Mom. It’s not a big deal,” Oswald tried.

“Of course it is a big deal! They are taking advantage of your gift!” Gertrude exclaimed. Oswald felt too tired to argue with her, so he sat down at the table in defeat.

“They aren’t. I swear they aren’t. Besides, they need my help. This monster is out on the streets and could hurt someone else! Why shouldn’t I help if I can?” Oswald looked at her, and she sighed in empathy. She sat down across from him and reached for his hand, which he gave her automatically.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, my liebchen. I don’t trust the police to keep you safe,”

“This one I met will. I know he will. He’s a friend,” Oswald insisted.

“This friend is a policeman? Is he the one you saw tonight?” Gertrude asked, raising an eyebrow. The one look that told Oswald she already knew, but was seeing if he would lie to her.

“If you already know, why are you asking me?” Oswald retorted.

“All policeman are the same. They lie, cheat and steal their way through this city, not caring about its citizens at all. ‘Keep Gotham Safe’. Pfft,” Gertrude scoffed.

“He’s different. Jim is so different than the rest of them,” Oswald hoped his voice sounded a lot less dreamy and breathy than it did in his head.

“You like him, no?” Gertrude asked.

“He’s a friend, as I’ve said. But, it’s a professional friendship.” Oswald insisted. At her skeptical look, he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “It is!”

“Whatever you say, my darling,” Gertrude was placating him, he knew and he sighed in response, knowing there wasn’t any use in trying to dissuade her.

“I do need your help though, I think,” Oswald decided to change the subject and quick.

“Oh?” Gertrude asked, curious.

“I need supplies for a séance. I know we have some things, but maybe we can go to the shop on Grundy tomorrow? I haven’t gotten much leeway so far in terms of seeing who this monster really is. Or what he wants from these people. I can’t discuss the case, as you know, but I figured you would know what to get,” Oswald smiled a little, hoping it would ease the asking of the favor.

“Of course, my boy. Whatever you need. Oh, yes; I have something for you, by the way,” Gertrude stood to go into her bedroom for a moment, before appearing back in the kitchen. She sighed, as she turned something over in her hands. “I should have given this to you ages ago. This was my mothers. It was one of the only things left to pass down to me, and now,” Gertrude took what looked like a piece of crystal set in silver on a chain around his neck. “It belongs to you. It has a powerful protection spell built into it, passed on from Mother to child for generations. I should have given this to you ages ago. I put an extra one on it, just in case,”

Oswald beamed at her, and stood up to hug her. He wrapped her in his arms, and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it forever,”

She took his face in her hands, and smiled a little. “Just remember, my Oswald. Not everyone you meet are as friendly as they seem. Ok?”

“Take them at face value; yes I remember.” Oswald nodded in remembrance. Gertrude had told this mantra to her son for years, ever since he had been bullied in school, and came home with a black eye once in elementary school. He learned very quickly to not always give people the benefit of the doubt, especially in a city like Gotham.

Gertrude patted his cheek with a warm smile, and rose to get up from her seat. Oswald grasped her arm to help her, when he felt it. At first, it felt like all the breath in his body had been stolen from him and he fell to the ground. Oswald saw a woman, much like the victim from this past morning, screaming for help. She was tied up around an altar, pieces of her life scattered at the base. Candles flickered in a light breeze, casting an eerie shadow on her. What seemed like a man walked up to her right side, and took out a knife to slice down her chest, causing blood to flow in rivulets down her body in rivulets. He could feel the sting of the knife as if it was him being sliced up on an altar as an offering. _Offering…That’s it!_

Oswald snapped out of the vision, feeling sick to his stomach and like he was going to faint. “Oh my God,” He whispered in a worn out voice.

“Oh Oswald! My boy! What happened?!” Gertrude was fussing over him, helping him to his feet and into a chair closest to them.

“I—I don’t know. I think…I think I _saw_ him, Mother. The man who has been killing these people. I need to call Jim. Now,” Oswald decided, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Have you ever experienced that? A vision like that?”

“Not that powerful, my boy. Oh, my. You must have had what’s called a premonition,” Gertrude explained, staring at Oswald as if she was seeing him for the first time. “Your Father had them, too.”

“My _Father_ was a _Seer_?” Oswald asked, gaping at her.

“He never embraced his gift. Not shunning it entirely, he just chose to focus on other things. You, however…you have embraced it since the day you were born, Oswald.” Gertrude looked at him, shaking her head fondly and smiling. “Call him and tell him what you saw.”

“Yes, yes. I will. Can you make a list of what I’ll need for the séance while I do that?” Oswald asked her, dialing Jim’s number he had saved in his phone.

“Of course, my boy,”

 

_Pick up, Jim…Pick up for the love of God…_

“Oswald? What’s the matter?” Jim answered, in a rushed voice.

“I’m fine, if that’s what you’re asking. I had a vision, Jim. A pretty powerful one. Actually, mother was here and witnessed it too. She said it was a premonition when I described it to her. Jim…there’s another one and she is _alive,”_ Oswald said all of this very quickly and Jim wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly.

“Did I hear you correctly? A _premonition?”_ Jim asked, incredulous. “The victim is alive? She’s _alive?”_

Oswald rolled his eyes. “Jim. You are not obtuse, so please don’t try to be. By the way, I am _not_ bullshitting you; I can tell by your tone that you think I am,”

“I wasn’t, I just—“ Jim sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Did you see his face? Or hers?”

“Just hers, but it was only lit by candle light. She was younger, but not underage. Not too short, but shorter than you, I think…” Oswald said, now standing up and pacing.

“Hang on. Can I just swing by? I know it’s late, but it would really help if you told me this in person,” Jim was already slipping his jeans back on and trying in vain to find some clean socks.

“Y-yes. That’s fine. Mother is here, but I’m sure she won’t mind,” Oswald was only half sure about that, and looked behind him to where his mother was in the sitting room.

“Great. See you in ten,” Jim hung up the phone and grabbed his keys to head out the door. He sent a text to Harvey, signaling his going to call him and soon. As he walked to Oswald’s, he tried to gather his thoughts about the latest development. _Premonitions now? How in the hell is this even possible?_ Jim thought, trying to make some sense of it. It wasn’t a question of whether it was real or not; he had seen Oswald have these visions in person, and make discoveries that no one else in the GCPD knew except for Jim and Harvey themselves. Those little details hadn’t been shared with the public or press. Jim breathed deeply, trying to calm down, walking as fast as could without drawing attention to himself. _Maybe this could be the break we’ve been waiting for._

As he walked up to what apartment number was Oswald after he was buzzed in by the man himself, he knocked quietly on the door. Oswald answered almost instantaneously.

“You didn’t have to buzz or knock. She saw you coming,” Oswald told him, with a shrug.

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll know better for next time then,” He said, with a smile.

Oswald’s heart skipped a beat. _Next time? Does he mean after the case or…?_ Oswald shook himself out of these thoughts so he could focus on the task at hand. “Please come in,”

“Thank you,” Jim looked around upon entering, and seeing all of the little knickknacks and eccentric pieces that filled the room, he smiled. “Nice place,”

“Mostly mother’s doing,” Oswald blushed nervously, and chuckled.

“I believe in surrounding yourself with things that bring you happiness and joy. You must be Detective Gordon, yes?” Gertrude asked from behind them, startling Jim a little and making them turn.

“Yes, ma’am. Jim Gordon, GCPD. You have a lovely home. I know it’s late and I apologize. I just needed to speak with your son for a few minutes. I promise I won’t stay too long,” Jim assured her, putting on his best charming smile. Or so he hoped.

“I usually do not trust the word of a policeman,” Gertrude said plainly, making Oswald’s heart sink for a moment. She began circling Jim a little. “You have an aura of great light surrounding you, though. Empathy and compassion encompass your heart and very soul. None of the filthy blackness of the hearts of other policeman I’ve met in my time in this city. You are truly one of a kind, Jim Gordon,” She rested a hand on his shoulder, and Jim met her gaze finally during her speaking to him. She took another amulet and wrapped it around his neck, and nodded once. “My Oswald cares for you a great deal. I know he did not come out and say it. But, he didn’t have to; a mother always knows. This,” She patted the amulet now that lay resting on Jim’s chest. “Is for protection. You don’t know what this man is capable of and my Oswald would be devastated if something happened to you,”

Oswald was gaping at her, and felt like burrowing into the floor. Jim, however, was touched at her gesture and felt at the amulet with his fingers. “Thank you,” He said, sincerely.

“I’ll bid you both goodnight. We will go to Grundy shop in the morning, my dear,” Gertrude told Oswald. She patted his cheek once, and went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Jim turned to Oswald, who now was sporting a very bright shade of red. “Are you ok?”

“Um, I don’t know. Why don’t I tell you about my vision and then you can get on your way?” Oswald suggested, trying to move on from what his mom had said. How did she know Oswald felt about Jim? He wasn’t even sure himself, since they had only met that day. What he was sure of was that he had never met anyone like Jim in his entire life, and would love it if he could get to know Jim better. She was right, though. _As usual,_ Oswald acknowledged. She was right in the way if anything happened to Jim, it would devastate him. Unfortunate as the circumstances were when they met, Oswald couldn’t have been happier to have met this wonderful man. As Jim sat down on the couch, Oswald began to explain what he saw in detail, down to the color of the victim’s hair and what the build of the man looked like standing before her. Jim wrote down notes of these details in his notebook he kept in his jacket.

“This is insane. What is the goal here? Some kind of ritual sacrifice?” Jim asked, breathless with all the new information.

“I honestly can’t say. I haven’t heard about any human sacrifices in the U.S. in recent history, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen…” At Jim’s wide eyes look, he sighed. “You really don’t read enough,”

Before Jim could respond, his cell phone rang shrilly in his pocket. He reached for it quickly to answer, as it was probably Harvey. “Harv,”

 _“Jimbo. What’s goin’ on?”_ Harvey asked, voice laced with sleep.

“Oswald saw something. There’s another victim, but she’s alive. From what he said, it looks like she’s in an abandoned barn, but as far as I know, there’s not anything like that in Gotham,” Jim explained.

_“What about the old elementary school? Didn’t they put on a play with a barnyard? I remember the animals, but nothing specific,”_

“That’s condemned,” Jim answered.

 _“Exactly,”_ Harvey replied, and Jim heard some shuffling around on his end of the line. _“Would be a perfect place to hold a ritual. Old, abandoned school. Who would think to look there?”_

Oswald, who had heard the conversation from Harvey’s end as well, widened his eyes. “I think he’s right, Jim. I didn’t see anything that looked like a school, but the barn looked TOO much like a barn, down to the white picket fence.”

“We can’t just go charging in there. What if we’re wrong?” Jim said to both Harvey and Oswald.

 _“Since when do you take caution, Boy Scout? I’ll meet you there with backup in 10. DO NOT go in without me. Jim…I mean it,”_ Harvey warned.

“Got it,” Jim said, and hung up the phone. “I gotta go.” He said, standing up.

“Oh, hold on there. Don’t think I’m not going with you,” Oswald reached out to Jim, and grabbed his arm.

“Oswald, you’re a civilian. I know you helped with this case, and believe me we couldn’t have done it without you. Literally, we couldn’t have…but I cannot let you go with us. That man is a monster. If it is a sacrifice, as you say, what do you think he will try to do if he’s interrupted?” Jim asked, voice cracking a little. The thought of Oswald getting hurt or worse made Jim worry out of his mind at the thought.

Oswald rolled his eyes. “I can shoot a gun, you know. This is Gotham. If I didn’t learn, I would have been mincemeat a long time ago,” He stated plainly.

Jim sighed in response. “No. I cannot let you come. I’ll call you after we get him. I’m pretty sure you will have to put a statement in the file for the case.” With that, he turned to leave. But, Oswald narrowed his eyes at his back, and stomped toward him before he got to the door.

“Jim,” Oswald said, loudly, making Jim turn. As soon as Jim was facing him, Oswald reached up and cupped his face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. Jim, surprised, didn’t respond at first, but quickly caught on and wrapped his arms around Oswald’s back, responded with equal fervor. When they released each other, both breathing heavily. “Be safe,”

“O-ok,” Jim stammered out, caught off guard by the kiss.

“I _mean_ it, Jim. I know of your reputation on charging in without any backup, trying to play the hero.” Oswald told him. “I swear if something happens to you, you will pray to cross over very quickly,”

Jim chuckled at the thought. “I promise I’ll be safe. We have to get her back, Oswald. We have to get him and lock him up where he belongs. I have to go,” He pressed another quick kiss to Oswald’s lips, and turned to leave. “Bye, Oswald,”

“Never goodbye. See you later,” Oswald corrected, with a half-smile. Jim nodded in agreement.

“See you later,” Jim said, and left Oswald’s apartment to go meet Harvey. He shook off the feelings of complete surprise and bewilderment, and pure giddiness that came with Oswald kissing him, for now. He had a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are lovely! :D


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